True Love Waits
by Umbradominus19
Summary: "I'm not living, I'm just killing time." This was a phrase that Alton Noyle had adopted after his world was nearly shattered by his best friend. Since then he has moved to Beach City to try and pick up the pieces of his life whilst trying to make a living and maybe find happiness. If he can't find it himself, maybe an energetic young boy and his space rock guardians can help him.


_**Bold Italics represent singing**_

* * *

Alton had always found the ocean fascinating.

Regardless of how much we as people could explore and draw conclusions from it, there always seemed to be more to discover. Be it a new species of fish, a hidden genus of coral, or just a different sector of the vast sea yet to be explored, it always seemed like space just on a lower scale: A nearly unfathomable body of undiscovered potential that's all around us, bursting with possibilities yet to be found.

By just switching some a very few number of words around, one could argue that a description such as that could be paralleled to life itself.

And that filled Alton with both a sense of comfort… yet at the same time paranoia.

On the one hand, it was a soothing thought to know that there was always something new to discover. It could range from mundane to life changing, but regardless of the outcome at least it was a form of change. And change was for the most part a good thing in Alton's perspective. It may be seem frightening, but you never know: it could lead to something spectacular.

However, the uncertainty of not knowing whether that something also could be world-shattering was what terrified Alton.

It didn't matter what position you were in during your life: The Universe, or God, or whatever exalted and underlying force (or lack thereof) controlled the short and seemingly miniscule lives of the mere mortals living on the pale blue dot in the endless void of space could chew you up and spit you out without warning. Sometimes it would even swallow you whole, erasing your existence and eliminating any chance you would have to make an impact on something… be it the world or a single life and or organism.

Alton thought this as he stared pensively out onto the early morning horizon, the spring sun peeking its head up halfway over the visible edge of the ocean and erupting its center into a symphony of sparking diamonds.

Alton curled his lips slightly upward: If there was one thing about Beach City that he loved, it was the picturesque visuals of the sea be it any time of the day. Whether it be the deep azure waters of the afternoon, the purple-pink reflection of the sky during late evening, or (Alton's personal favorite spectacle for the eyes) the haunting silver glow of the moon's mirrored over the sea at night. Each and all could easily make one's heart swoon.

*Beep, Beep*

Snapping out of his trance like state of thought, Alton lifted his arm near his face to peer at his watch. It read 9:00 AM.

 _Wow. I've been here for three hours. Time sure does fly when you're brooding._ Alton thought. _I should probably get back to Concerto. It's almost time to open, after all…_

His train of thought was halted, however, when his eyes wandered over to the black guitar shaped case which he had brought to the beach with him.

Alton smiled somewhat mischievously.

 _Well… maybe one song wouldn't hurt. After all, that is one of the reasons you came down here._

Opening the case, Alton revealed the tan six-string. A hand-me-down from his father it may be, but that certainly didn't decrease its value in the eyes of its owner. Positioning it sideways, the man began to fiddle with the knobs on the instrument's end, tuning it until he was satisfied. With that process over with, he gave the guitar a few experimental strums before starting to play the piece he had on his mind.

It started with a simple repetition of two chords, but soon more notes were added into a calming salvo of sounds. After a few measures, he began to sing the lyrics that had been imbedded into his head since his early childhood from many nights by his father's side, watching entranced as his fingers moved so deftly and his voice rang so smoothly:

" _ **When I go back, Baltimore**_

 _ **Need no carpet on my floor**_

 _ **You come along, and follow me**_

 _ **We'll go down to Galilee.**_

 _ **Howlin', green green rocky road.**_

 _ **You're promenading green**_

 _ **Tell me who you love**_

 _ **Tell me who you love."**_

Alton looked skyward during the brief interlude between verses, still plucking away at the strings, and saw a small flock of seagulls flying overhead. Alton thought the presence of avian creatures was rather fitting for the next few lines:

" _ **See that crow up in the sky**_

 _ **He don't walk, he just flies**_

 _ **He don't walk, but he don't run**_

 _ **Keep on flappin' to the sun.**_

 _ **Howlin', green green rocky road.**_

 _ **You're promenading green**_

 _ **Tell me who you love**_

 _ **Tell me who you love."**_

Alton continued to play the six-sting as if it were his birthright, the music it created resonating over the sound of the ocean and echoing into the storefronts and businesses behind him whilst he went on with the proceeding verse, smiling inwardly at the slight silliness of it:

" _ **Hooka tooka soda cracker**_

 _ **Does your mama chew tobacco?**_

 _ **If your mama chews tobacco**_

 _ **Hooka tooka, hooka tooka soda cracker.**_

 _ **Howlin', green green rocky road.**_

 _ **You're promenading green**_

 _ **Tell me who you love**_

 _ **Tell me who you love."**_

Getting far too caught up in his music to notice the sound of footsteps behind him, Alton proceeded to close his eyes whilst still playing and increase the intensity of his sound:

" _ **Now when I go back, Baltimore**_

 _ **Need no carpet on my floor**_

 _ **You come along and follow me**_

 _ **There's a man in Galilee.**_

 _ **Howlin', green green rocky road.**_

 _ **You're promenading green**_

 _ **Tell me who you love**_

 _ **Tell me who you love."**_

Holding the last note vocally for longer than what he usually did for the chorus, Alton plucked out several more measures of audio from his instrument before finally finishing the number with a grandiose strum of the guitar's strings.

Slowly opening his eyes, a look of subdued satisfaction on his face, Alton peered once again out to the ocean, smiling all the while.

"Wow. That was somethin' great!"

Alton was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a male voice from behind him state this, somewhat catching him off guard and causing him to involuntarily stand up. Turning around, Alton surveyed the man who he assumed had addressed his music.

He was an overweight man, but not morbidly obese by any means. By the looks of it he appeared to be in his late forties, around twice the age of Alton. He wore a white tank-top and jean shorts, and from this set of clothing could easily see the near ridiculous farmers tan the man had acquired from wearing such an outfit in the normally sunny city they were in. And while balding on the top of his head, that surely didn't stop the rest of his hair from growing into a grey-brown mane that would fit right at home on an eighties hair-metal band member. His hair also extended into the facial area, a somewhat messy beard growing busily. Perhaps the most stand out feature of the man in Alton's eyes was his megawatt smile, shining like the sun rising behind him.

"Oh, um, thank you." Alton said to the man, chuckling nervously and placing his guitar back into its case, closing it. No matter how many years of playing he put under his belt, be it from an audience or by himself, praise was something he always felt awkward with.

"Don't mention it! Sorry if I was barging in on your playing, I was just waiting for my son to get back with some breakfast and I couldn't help but notice your sound. I gotta say, I'm surprised to see someone as young as yourself play folk music, let alone play it that well."

Alton uttered a half laugh at that statement before saying:

"Yeah, I tend to get that a lot. It's just that my father had quite a big influence on my musical preference. When I was little, our free time was filled with Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, and Dave Von Ronk, so I guess my brain just began to associate folk with positivity."

"That explains it." The man said, his smile still haven't leaving his face. He then stuck out his hand and continued on with:

"I'm Greg, by the way! I own the car wash just over yonder." Greg pointed to a building very easily visible in the short distance, a neon sign reading 'It's A Wash' standing above the facility. "I don't think I've ever seen you around town."

Alton took Greg's hand in his and firmly shook it, before relaying his title to the elder man.

"Alton, Alton Noyle. I'm guessing you probably haven't seen me around for two reasons: One, I don't own a car, so there would be no reason for me to come to your place of business. And two, well… I have a tendency to keep to myself/am too busy with my own business to have much free time around the city."

"Oh, so you're also a business owner?" Greg inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes sir." Alton answered, smiling proudly.

"I see. What exactly is the business-"

"Dad!"

Both Alton and Greg craned their heads towards the emanating call that rang like a siren that Alton assumed most people within a mile radius could hear. Incoming their direction was a pudgy boy with dark curly hair and wide brown eyes, boasting a wardrobe of a pink shirt with a yellow star in its center, blue jeans and brown sandals. The smile painting his face was nigh identical to Greg's, if not somehow even more jovial. He was currently balancing a thin, teetering, grey cardboard box atop one of his hands.

"Heya, Stuball!" Greg exclaimed, wrapping who Alton could only conclude was his son in a massive bear hug. "You got the donuts?"

"You bet!" The boy said. He turned his gaze towards Alton, his smile not diminishing in the slightest, and asked:

"Who's this?"

"Oh, this is Alton. He was just playing some great guitar while you were gone so I thought I'd chat him up a bit." Greg explained. He turned to Alton and explained further:

"This is my son, Steven."

Alton crouched down and held out his hand, allowing himself a small grin.

"Pleasure to meet you."

"You too!" Steven said whilst shaking Alton's own.

On the subject of hands, Alton's gaze was making its way towards Steven's other appendage that was occupied with holding the box of previously mentioned donuts.

"Donuts, eh? Where did you get them?" Alton questioned.

"None other than The Big Donut!" Steven proclaimed, as if the location was the Fountain of Youth to his Ponce De Leon.

Alton snorted.

He shouldn't laugh.

He was just a boy and Alton hadn't seen him at Concerto, Steven most likely didn't know any better.

But the years and years of being raised upon a pastry chef's quality of baked goods got the better of him.

"Hahaha!"

Greg and Steven looked to Alton in confusion.

"What's so funny about The Big Donut?" Steven asked.

"You mean to tell me you're excited about some mass produced, half-stale pieces of dough they call a donut?" Alton asked rhetorically. "You poor child." He continued with half theatric-half actual pity. "Not to toot my own horn, but if you want a quality pastry, not to mention a decent cup of coffee, you come to my place."

"Your place?" Steven asked. Reasonably, in his defense, as Alton did realize he had sprung into conversation about his place of work without actually explaining to the father-son duo what that was.

"Oh, I suppose I forgot to tell you: I own a coffee lounge here in town. It's called Concerto, have either of you heard of it?"

"Oh, I have! Connie says she and her parents go there all the time. She says that your stuff is amazing!" Steven explained.

"Connie… as in Maheswaran, Connie?" Alton asked, finding the name familiar.

"That's the one!" Steven confirmed.

"Yeah, she and her folks are regulars." Alton was beginning to recall. "It's a shame, though: Her parents will only let her eat our granola bars. Something about them not letting her eat trans fats, I think."

Steven giggled.

"That sounds about right." He said. Turning to his father, the young man's began to take a starry appearance, smiling pleadingly. "Can we go to his place instead for breakfast?"

Greg chuckled nervously, placing a hand behind his head and scratching the sector of hair it had landed on.

"I wish we could, bud, but I'm kinda tight on cash." Greg explained.

"If that's the case, then it's on me." Alton interjected.

"Really?" Both father and son said simultaneously, Steven excitedly and Greg incredulously.

"Of course." Alton confirmed whilst smiling slightly, turning to Steven. "Your taste buds have yet to experience what a _**real**_ donut tastes like. I can't let a travesty such as that go without aid."

"Awesome!" Steven exclaimed with arms raised skyward and fists clenched.

"Are you… sure?" Greg asked hesitantly. "I don't wanna take advantage of you or anything."

"You needn't worry, Greg." Alton reassured. "Besides, I still need to owe you for the praise you gave me on my music."

Greg slowly began to smile.

"Well… Okay! Is it far away?"

"Not at all, just a couple blocks away. Easily in walking distance."

"Sounds good! Let me just go freshen up a bit and we'll go!"

Greg began to walk briskly towards 'It's A Wash', with Steven (appearing as if he could barely contain his excitement) saying:

"I actually know where your shop is, so I'm just gonna go ahead if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Just make sure you wait for me and your dad before you go in. We're still technically closed so there isn't going to be anyone there at the moment."

"Okay. See you in a bit!"

And with that, Steven dashed off.

Alton chuckled. He found it difficult to find such raw happiness in a person, let alone over something as ordinary as donuts. Not that he was complaining: It was a nice change of pace from the near perpetual feeling of a Purgatory-like state between contentment and worry Alton had accustomed himself to.

Turing back towards the sun, catching a glimpse of Greg rummaging through a van (most likely his), Alton gazed out towards the sea once more.

If life was like exploring the ocean, Alton could safely confirm that he had discovered two very friendly fish today.

And for whatever reason, he couldn't help but feel that they were going to be a gateway into uncovering something fantastic.

He didn't know at the time how right he was.

* * *

 **Good Morrow, People of Fanfiction! Sorry if this at all seemed rushed, I just had this idea spring into my head at around two in the morning and I had a good feeling about it, so I wanted to get it out there before I lost some of my passion.**

 **To those of you wondering what the song Alton was playing near the beginning was called, Its known as _Green Green Rocky Road._ While originally by Dave Von Ronk, I pictured it sounding nearly identical to Oscar Issac's cover of the song from the film Inside Llewyn Davis. If you would feel so inclined, I highly recommend re-reading the musical section with said song playing in the background. It increases the text's impact, at least from my point of view.**

 **To those of you not wanting the hassle of trying to find a video of the cover with decent sound, here's the address to one:**

 **watch?v=1Q5m2DEf7ag**

 **Just as a heads up, If I continue this story (which all depends on you lovely folks wanting more of it) expect to see many more of those song segments in future chapters. Don't worry, there's going to be much more than folk being played. I'll even continue providing addresses to the songs used, if you all would like that.**

 **Anyways, please leave your reviews to tell me what you think/if you want more!**


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